


You'll Be In My Heart

by stonecoldsteverogers (youdickbag), youdickbag



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, S3-style angst, my kingdom for more baby!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youdickbag/pseuds/stonecoldsteverogers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/youdickbag/pseuds/youdickbag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Dean was going to go to Hell; he’d done it for Sam, and so that meant that he didn’t have any regret - he’d do it again in a heartbeat. But sometimes it got hard to remember why he’d sacrificed his soul to save his brother when all his brother did was complain and dig and not just <em>leave it alone.</em> </p><p>Until Sam literally became his "baby brother." Again. Now, Dean has to remember or he'll have a year to raise Sam all over again. Yeah...remembering just got Really Freaking Important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Be In My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a post I saw on my dashboard that included gems like:
> 
> Sam getting somehow turned back into a baby.  
> Dean taking care of baby!Sam while hunting down whatever turned him into a baby.  
> Double the psychological drift if Sam were only semi-conscious of being a baby.  
> Unconscious affection.
> 
> The post offered writing a fic like that as a mission, and I chose to accept. This is the result.
> 
> Warnings for profanity and ANGST because this IS set in Season 3, after all.

Dean was slipping fast, and he knew it. He knew that Sam knew it, too, but damn it, did that mean that they always had to _talk_ about it? So Dean was going to go to Hell; he'd done it for Sam, and so that meant that he didn't have any regret - he'd do it again in a heartbeat. But sometimes it got hard to remember why he'd sacrificed his soul to save his brother when all his brother did was complain and dig and not just _leave it alone_.

"You shouldn't just roll over and accept this, Dean, there's gotta be something we can do," Sam said yet again, and Dean exhaled harshly through his nose. "Dean, c'mon, this isn't the you I know."

"That's because the me you know is gonna be dead in a year!" Dean snapped, the air in the Impala suddenly feeling too tight, smothering. "And there isn't a way to get around it. If I try, you die, and then where will I be? Right back in square one, except this time, no crossroad demon's gonna want anything to do with me. I just want this one damn year, Sam, so for Christ's sake, just _LET IT BE!_ "

"I can't do that, Dean," Sam replied quietly, and Dean pulled the car into a parking lot outside some diner he hadn't caught the name of. Placing his elbows on the steering wheel, Dean massaged the bridge of his nose with his fingers while he waited for Sam to continue this latest one-sided argument. "You didn't want to live without me; why would I want to live without you, either?"

"Because you can, Sam," Dean sighed, getting out of the car.

"What? No I can't," Sam replied as he unfolded himself from the passenger's seat, standing beside the car and resting his elbows on the roof.

"Yes, you can, and you will. I didn't give up my soul for you to follow some kind of suicide mission."

"So I'm just supposed to accept that you get to go on suicide missions?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm the big brother, Sam! It's my fucking _job_ to make sure that you're okay!"

"How can you be sure I'm okay if you aren't here?" Sam asked quietly, and Dean clenched his jaw, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I don't want you to leave me, Dean. I want you here...I don't want to lose anyone else."

 _Damn it._ Dean didn't know what was making his mouth move, but something was, because he could hear himself saying, "Maybe it's time you learned how to take care of yourself, then, Sam."

"W...What?"

"You heard me. Since I obviously didn't do my job right, and broke you by making you somehow dependent on me being around, maybe I've been too overbearing with you." _I can't really be saying this, can I?_ "I'm gonna be gone from here in a year, and if you're gonna spend that year trying to find a way to get yourself killed, then maybe you should learn how to take care of yourself."

"Dean, you aren't making any sense." Dean hated the way Sam sounded, but whatever had taken over his mouth wasn't quite done with him yet.

"How about this, then? _Stop_ depending on me. Learn to take care of yourself, quit being such a goddamn baby, and then maybe you'll get it through your head that I didn't sacrifice my soul so that you could go and kill yourself. Maybe you'll understand that you can look after yourself, if you'd grow up. People die every day, Sam."

"You're supposed to be different." Sam's voice was so quiet, Dean almost couldn't hear it. Carefully studying the way that Sam's hands gripped each other so tightly the knuckles turned white, Dean didn't respond. "It's supposed to be you and me."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but that's not the way the world works."

They stood in silence, Dean astounded with himself for saying those things. He wanted to apologize to Sam, to say that he didn't mean a word of it, but...he couldn't. Did that mean he really did mean everything he'd said? Maybe it did.

Sam's whole body shook for a moment before he straightened his back, moving his hair out of his face so that Dean could visibly track the hardening of his expression. "I guess I'd better get started then, huh? I'll be out of the room by later tonight."

Dean really wanted to have a problem with that. So...why didn't he? As Sam opened the back door and grabbed his backpack, Dean shivered from a chill that, despite the warm night, pierced straight through to his bones. Just like that, it was gone again. "Where will you stay?"

"What do you care?" Dean wished that remark stung, but it didn't. He just wanted to go back to the room - _his_ room - and sleep. He was tired.

"Do you need money for a bus or something?"

"I'll look after myself." That got a twinge, but that was it. Dean shrugged and waited until Sam walked inside the diner before getting back into the Impala and driving away. He'd just left Sam, maybe for good. He should feel like his soul was splitting in two, like everything about this was _wrong_. It was wrong, right?

All Dean wanted to do was sleep. When he got back to the room, he let himself in and flopped down onto the bed, still completely dressed. His mind felt foggy; sleep provided no release. His dreams were full of clouds and mist, and once he thought he saw Sam, but then he was gone, back into the gently undulating curves.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Was that crying? It sounded like a baby. But why would there be a baby in Dean's room?

The mists were heavy, and Dean's eyelids didn't want to fight them to try and open, but the crying wasn't stopping, so Dean had to at least see where it was coming from. He blinked his eyes open blearily, looking around. The room was dark, and he could see the night sky through the window, stars twinkling.

The crying seemed to get louder, like it was being brought closer to Dean. Finally, it got to be so piercing a wail that Dean began to worry that it would disturb the other tenants. He got up slowly, listening to the way the baby's cries stuttered and stopped for a little while before beginning again full-force.

There was a baby in the room, and it wasn't going to stop crying any time soon. Standing up and turning on the bedside lamp, Dean saw that the baby was male with dark brown hair. He couldn't see what color the baby's eyes were, since his face was all screwed up and red. It wasn't really all that attractive-looking, if Dean was quite honest with himself.

The baby was lying on a pile of flannel and jeans, and his tiny limbs were struggling to get out of the clothes, but the more he struggled the more he swaddled himself in the fabric. Dean felt like he should recognize those clothes, but the baby was crying so loudly he just couldn't think. He also felt like he'd seen this baby before, but the memory was vague, almost completely gone from his mind before he'd even been able to latch onto it.

Dean figured he'd let the baby cry long enough, in any case; he was absolute shit at taking care of babies, but he figured he could at least get it to stop making noise. Picking the baby up in the flannel shirt, Dean straightened up and made small shushing noises, bouncing the baby in some half-forgotten instinct. "Shh, hey, it's okay little guy," he said quietly, voice rough with sleep. The baby's crying subsided almost immediately, and Dean could hear his tiny hitching breaths against the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

The baby's hair was so soft, and he smelled like babies should. Dean felt his small fist clench in his shirt, grabbing at the cord to his necklace, and the baby gave one more hiccuping breath before it finally fell silent. Dean took the opportunity to remove the baby from his shoulder and get a good look at his face, hands up under the baby's armpits.

He wasn't quite as small as he had seemed all curled up in Dean's arms, like gravity was stretching him downward. His eyes were open now, and they were wide and watchful as Dean studied him. He reached for Dean's cheek, and Dean caught his fingers in his mouth - another long-buried instinct for occupying a baby's attention.

It worked, and the baby laughed, hazel eyes twinkling. And then Dean had to sit down or he would've fallen to the ground with the force of the revelation that just hit him. That laugh reminded him exactly of how his infant brother used to laugh; Dean would know, since it was a sound that had fascinated him endlessly as a toddler and a kid. Those eyes, that hair, that flannel shirt...

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, and the baby simply looked at him. "Oh god, Sammy, what happened to you?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Yeah, Bobby, I'm telling you, I woke up to a crying baby, and the baby is Sam."

" _How can you be sure?_ "

"Bobby, I spent my entire life looking after Sam, I think I would recognize him."

" _Yeah, yeah, ya idjit, I wasn't tryin' to say that you wouldn't know your baby brother from a hole in the ground. I just want to make sure that Sam actually got turned into a baby and this isn't some kind of hallucination you're having._ "

"Of Sam as a baby, though? Why would--" _Oh._

" _Dean? You there still?_ "

"Yeah. Look, Bobby, I gotta go. I'll call you back." Dean hung up the phone and looked at Sam, who was swaddled in another of his grown-up shirts. At his frown, Sam smiled unabashedly, gums showing and everything. "Sammy, we've gotta fix you," Dean said, and Sam just burbled. There was no other word for the sound effect; he just burbled.

Just then, Dean's stomach growled, and the baby laughed again. _Christ, that's weird_. Dean had pretty much been sure that he'd never hear Sam laugh like that again, because that was a baby laugh, and Sam was never going to be a baby again. There was a difference between being Dean's baby brother and actually being Dean's baby brother...right?

"C'mon, Sammy, we're gonna get some grub." Sam burbled again in reply, and Dean sighed. He didn't remember much about taking care of Sam as a baby, even with his newly clarified memory. But he did know that babies couldn't eat hamburgers and fries, so he'd have to go to the store and get baby food. And probably diapers, and baby wipes, and all that crap he thought they'd left behind when Sam turned three.

He walked over and Sam lifted his arms slightly, allowing Dean to hoist him up by the armpits until he could fit him in the crook of his elbow. Sam laid his head against Dean's shoulder, and Dean sighed as he closed his eyes before pressing a kiss to the crown of Sam's head. _We've really gotta get you fixed, Sammy._ Dean thought he was handling the panic pretty well - in fact, he wasn't even sure that there was any. He didn't really want to think about why Sam was a baby, since that could be where the panic was hiding, so he decided to focus on taking care of Sam for the immediate future until he could figure out how to turn Sam into an adult again.

He carried Sam out the door and lifted his head when Sam turned his face inward to hide from the bright sun. Holding his free hand over Sam's head, Dean walked quickly to the Impala, removing his hand and getting in quickly to try and keep Sam from bunching up into an even smaller ball. "I know, buddy, it's hot out," he said quietly. "But we'll get you cooled off when we start driving." Sam's fist tightened in Dean's shirt again, and stayed like that until Dean managed to get the keys in the ignition and start the car, backing out of the lot and heading for a grocery store.

He noticed when Sam laid back in his left arm and grabbed his necklace, and he noticed when Sam started to chew on the necklace. But he didn't do anything about it, because Sam wasn't really hurting anything. He was only a baby, after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean had forgotten somehow that Sam had always been the more sociable of the two of them, even when they were little. He was reminded of it as he walked around the store with Sam in one arm and pushing a cart with his free hand, constantly having to stop while people gasped and cooed at Sam. The little goober ate the attention all up, smiling and laughing like he was having the time of his little baby life in the freaking Rite Aid.

"Oh, he's such a cutie!" An older woman gushed as she waved at Sam, who laughed. "And such a happy little guy! What's his name?"

"Sam," Dean replied, grabbing some jars of baby food, making sure to grab things like creamed spinach, mashed beets, and since he wasn't a complete jerk, apple sauce.

The woman continued to croon Sam's name at the baby, who laughed and laughed. When she waggled her finger at him, he caught it and apparently gripped it tight enough to make the woman have to shake her finger to get him to let go. "That's quite the hold he's got there," she said.

"Yep, he's my little macho man," Dean said absent-mindedly, and then almost fell over again from another revelation. _Macho man Sam...except for when he tried to show me how vulnerable he was. When he asked me to stay with him...and I spat in his face._

"Goodness, are you alright?" the woman asked, alarmed.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," Dean said quickly, pushing the cart down the aisle toward the front of the store and the registers. "Don't know what happened, could just be the late night I spent up with him."

Dean hurriedly paid for the baby food and carried Sam and the food back to the Impala, the jostling making Sam uncomfortable and causing him to fuss. Dean shushed him softly, tossing the baby food into the passenger's seat and strapping in again. But Sam wouldn't stop fussing, and Dean couldn't figure out what was wrong. "You hungry, bud?" But Sam just kept whining, and his cry had started to get that hiccup that usually meant he was getting ready to really let Dean have it. "Crap, crap, shh, Sammy, shh, we'll get you back home and then we'll see what's wrong, okay?"

Sam didn't quit until they were back in the motel room with the door shut. Dean pulled the curtains closed and set Sam up in a swaddle on the bed, making sure he couldn't go anywhere before rooting around in the plastic grocery bag for something that Sam would eat. Sam had stopped making noise rather quickly, and when Dean turned back around with an opened jar, Sam was asleep and beginning to roll. Dean caught him quickly and set him up on his stomach with his head to one side, and then just sat next to him, stroking his back through the flannel, running his fingers lightly along Sam's scalp and short brown hair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The message showed up caught in Dean's windshield wiper when he goes outside to get something out of the Impala. He frowned as he took the paper from the windshield and shook it open. As he read, he could feel his anger building.

_Hello Negligent,_

_I hope this message finds you well and able to take care of your little bundle of joy. I heard everything you said to your poor brother, how you totally left him alone when all he wanted was to have you around. You're his big brother, and if I've got it right, you're also the only family he's got left. That you could treat him like that is appalling and abhorrent._

_So I decided I would teach you a lesson that you obviously needed to re-learn. Until you remember what it means to be a big brother who is depended on, you will have to deal with your brother as an infant. I have included a map with coordinates where you will meet me in four days' time. Hopefully, you'll have learned your lesson by then, and remembered what it means to be a caretaker. I truly hope that turns out to be the case._

_If not...then I hope you're prepared to live the rest of your life raising him all over again._

"You son-of-a-bitch," Dean said as he ripped the paper. He hadn't noticed the map, but as he ripped the paper, he noticed a folded piece fall down. Catching it deftly, he unfolded it to find a place marked on a map that didn't appear to be too far from here. "If you think I'm gonna wait on your ass for four days, you've got another thing coming," Dean snarled as he stomped back toward the motel room. "Nobody messes with Dean Winchester. And _nobody_ messes with Sammy."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As it turns out, Dean did in fact have to wait for four days. He took Sam with him the first three days he went, and there was no one there; the house was empty, the lights all dark. Every time he went and took Sam with him, Sam would play with his necklace contentedly...until they got to the house. Dean didn't know how he knew, or what he knew, but every time they got close Sam would get very quiet and still, and his eyes would look at Dean with fear that seemed far too old, and that Dean couldn't figure out.

And then they would pull up in front of the house, and Sam would start to fuss every single time. And he just wouldn't quit, no matter how calming Dean tried to be. He only settled down when they left, and then he was back to normal...relatively speaking.

Dean spent those three days before the fourth day relearning everything about Sam that he'd forgotten in the vast gulf of their shared life experience. The way that Sam's eyes lit up whenever he saw Dean, the way that he naturally seemed to search out Dean for comfort, the way that even the most basic things about him were endlessly fascinating to Dean.

His hair, his bright hazel eyes, that cheesy and unashamed grin, the total lack of the restraint that Sam would gain as he grew up. Dean didn't realize how much he'd missed his unfettered brother until he had him there in his arms, laughing one moment, crying the next, sleeping on Dean's shoulder the next, tiny breaths puffing against Dean's neck.

Dean could feel Sam's heartbeat as he patted his back, and it was so fragile. But it was also steady and regular, healthy. This was his baby brother, and Dean wondered when he'd forgotten everything that made Sam his entire universe. He wondered when being with Sam had turned from something that he willingly chose and yearned for while Sam was at Stanford to something he just put up with.

It was like Dean couldn't recognize how much Sam meant to him in their adult life unless Sam was suddenly no longer there. At least this time, Dean knew where Sam was at all times, and Sam had no problems being affectionate to the point of drooling on Dean in happiness, laughing when Dean scolded him with no real heat.

Dean spent any time that Sam was sleeping - when he wasn't fixated on Sam's small body, back rising and falling as he slept - researching ways to undo a spell that turned someone into a baby. Turns out that unless he knew how the spell had been done, he couldn't undo it. Shit.

When the fourth day finally rolled around, Dean figured that he would wait until Sam was down for a nap before he left. He was loathe to leave Sam by himself, but he'd only be gone for 30 minutes. And he'd taken every precaution to keep Sam safe while he slept. Short of the building collapsing on itself, Sam wasn't going anywhere.

That didn't keep Dean from driving fast, probably dangerously fast. _I'm gonna fix you, Sammy. I'm gonna make you okay again._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This time, when Dean pulled up to the house, there was a light on, and Dean could see a shadow puttering around what was probably the living room. "Gotcha," Dean muttered as he got out of the Impala and walked around to the trunk, selecting a handgun from his arsenal. Making sure it was loaded, Dean put it in the waistband of his jeans and walked up toward the house.

The door was open, and it swung inward when he stepped onto the porch. Walking through the door, Dean looked around for the room he'd seen the shadow in.

Sitting there was a woman he'd never seen before. She was fairly normal-looking, except for when she laid her eyes on Dean. Then her lips stretched into a grin that was extremely not normal, leaning back into a red winged armchair. "Hello, Negligent."

"My name is Dean."

"Not important," the woman replied with a shrug. "As far as I'm concerned, your name _should_ be Negligent. I saw how you treated that nice young man you were with. And I heard everything about you, enough to know that you needed to be taught a lesson."

"Cute," Dean said, making sure to let the contempt and sarcasm drip from the syllable. "So tell me, when exactly does this 'curse' of yours get lifted?"

"Just like I said in the letter, Negligent. The only way to return your brother to his normal state is to realize what it means to be a good big brother, to be a good caretaker. I know your type, and I know that normally you'd never treat your brother - Sammy?"

"To you, his name is Sam," Dean gritted out. "He's my Sammy."

"Sammy, then," the woman responded, that weird stretchy grin on her face again. "He'll be fine, granted that you remember what being a caretaker means."

"Or I could just kill you, right?" Dean replied smoothly, pulling the gun from his jeans and pointing it steadily right at her grinning mug.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? When in doubt, shoot whatever it is that messed up your little bubble, right?" When Dean didn't reply except to straighten out the barrel of his gun, the woman leaned forward and said, "Kill me if you want, but the curse will remain."

"We'll see about that," Dean replied.

"You really gonna kill me, Dean? Do you really think that will solve little Sammy's--" the rest of her question was cut off by a gunshot. The shot was clean and precise, and her expression was mildly surprised as she slumped back in her chair, then onto the floor. Her blood was only barely noticeable against the chair.

"Now we're gonna go see about Sammy," he said, lifting up the woman's body so that he could carry it bridal-style. "But first, we've got to get rid of you somehow." Perhaps Dean should feel bad for shooting someone who'd technically done them no physical or mortal harm. But she was obviously a witch, and so killing her accomplished two objectives: removing someone who obviously was capable of using spells malignantly, and if Dean was lucky, returning Sam to normal.

He realized that he wouldn't be able to properly do something about the witch, not if he wanted to get back to Sammy quickly. So he took her to the local hospital, pretending to gasp out something about driving past and seeing her with a gun to her head, and then hearing a gunshot and finding the door open, going inside to find her slumped in her chair, slowly moving toward the floor. He was just descriptive enough that the employees wouldn't want to question him further to save him from more possible trauma, and then he left without leaving a number.

"Hold on, Sammy," he said, checking his phone. Sam had been alone for about 40 minutes, and Dean drove back to the motel with his foot pressing the gas pedal a little bit harder.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean pushed the door open slowly, calling out, "Sammy? Sammy, you okay?"

The room was quiet and still, and Sam was lying where Dean had settled him down. But something didn't feel right, besides the fact that Sam was still a baby. Dean couldn't figure out what it was that was wrong, but something was clearly, terribly not okay.

He dashed to the bed and picked Sam up, placing his ear to his chest. He couldn't hear anything, and for the next few minutes Dean's brain stopped all activity. He was pretty sure he stopped breathing, too. All he could do was choke out, "Sam...Sammy. Sammy, are you okay? Sam, oh God, _Sammy, c'mon_." He laid Sam stomach down along his forearm the way he vaguely remembered from a CPR class that Sam had insisted that Dean attend with him when they were teenagers.

He thunked the heel of his hand on Sam's back lightly, trying to get him to breathe, to squirm, _anything_. He righted Sam and listened again, and still couldn't hear anything, though that could just be because his blood was pounding in his ears. "Sam, please, Sammy, c'mon, be okay, please be okay." More pounding, and Sam still wasn't responsive.

Dean wasn't aware that his face was wet until he realized that he was taking great heaving gasps of air as he thunked Sam's back. "Sammy, I'm so sorry, please be okay."

"I can't lose you again...I don't want to lose you, please, Sammy. I need you to be okay, I have to take care of you. I will take care of you, but you have to come back to me. Please, Sammy..."

Sam's body twitched, and Dean righted him quickly, holding him up and letting Sam's head rest against his shoulder. Those tiny breaths were coming back slowly, and Sam was coughing. He was okay, he wasn't dead, Dean didn't lose him.

"God, Sammy..." Dean said, bouncing him gently as Sam started to cry. "I know, I know, it's okay. I was scared, too, but shh, don't cry. C'mon, where's my good boy? Where is he, Sammy?" Sam was okay, and in that moment, Dean didn't care if Sam stayed a baby for the rest of their lives, because as long as he was around he was going to make sure that Sam was always okay.

It happened in a flash; one moment Dean was standing and bouncing a Sam that was calming down and about the length of Dean's shoulder to his navel, and the next he was on the floor being slowly crushed under a Sam that was taller than he was, and also a lot less clothed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam knew intellectually that Dean was treating him a lot differently, and that something had happened to turn Dean's behavior so completely. He also knew intellectually that he had been a baby for about five days. He didn't remember what had happened specifically, but he did remember feeling taken care of nonstop by Dean for five days.

He remembered Dean's face being the last thing his baby eyes saw before closing for one of the multiple naps he took during the course of the day, and he remembered Dean's face being the first thing he saw when his eyes opened again. He remembered the steady thunk-thunk of Dean's heart when he cradled Sam against his shoulder.

He remembered how gently Dean handled him, like he was afraid that Sam would break. He remembered how happy Dean sounded whenever he would play with Sam. He remembered being the sole focus of Dean's attention, and though he'd (probably) never admit it, he'd missed that. He and Dean were adults, but Dean was still his big brother, and sometimes (he was _definitely_ never going to admit this) he just wanted to feel safe, taken care of. Like he still mattered to Dean.

For five days, he had felt exactly like that; that was all he remembered from being a baby. That was all he needed to remember.

His clearest memory from no longer being a baby was lying on top of Dean naked, which was all kinds of awkward, especially since he thought there may or may not have been a crisis beforehand. He remembered the stress that had been pouring off of Dean in waves as he came back to awareness of himself as an adult.

What made that return even more awkward was how he'd tried to struggle to get up and off of Dean only to be held fast by Dean's arms around his back. Dean had buried his head in Sam's naked shoulder and cried. It only lasted for a few moments, but as the time passed, Sam relaxed little by little, content to wait.

Finally, he said, "Dean, I gotta get dressed," and Dean quickly let him go, muttering, "Yeah, of course, sorry." Sam wished Dean didn't feel like he had to apologize for being happy that Sam was back. But Dean was already pulling away, though he did watch Sam like a hawk as he got dressed. Sam blushed lightly, but Dean didn't react except to raise an eyebrow before turning away slightly.

But he wanted to hug Dean again; he felt like they had a lot of catching up to do. Chalk that up to yet another thing that he would (probably) never actually tell Dean, but that didn't stop him from, once he was fully dressed, turning around and holding his arms out tentatively.

Dean bit his lip before sitting down on one of the beds. Sam tried hard to hide his disappointment, until Dean patted the bed next to him while staring very determinedly at the wall. Sam sat down, and then his whole torso was twisting to return the tight hold that Dean had gotten on him. They didn't say a word, but this time Sam was willing to let the hug go on for as long as Dean wanted it to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam had thought that eventually they'd get back to normal, since Dean only had a year (something that Sam tried very hard not to think about unless it was in the context of finding a way to save Dean). And for the most part, they did. But Dean was a lot more hands-on, making sure to touch Sam somehow, bumping shoulders, sitting right next to him so that their knees touched; if Sam didn't know better, he'd say that Dean was becoming weirdly intimate.

But maybe that was just the way his brother had always worked, and Sam was only now noticing since they'd been slowly falling apart before he was a baby, and then he was a baby, so he only remembered registering the constant touch, not really being able to understand everything behind it.

Once or twice he would catch Dean looking at him, expression wide open, and Dean would get this weird smile before reaching an arm out. But he always stopped himself for some reason, and when Sam would ask him if he was okay, Dean would get this odd smile on his face that didn't quite reach to his eyes. His eyes that held some kind of mixture of happiness, sadness, and fear that Sam hated seeing there.

They would have to talk about this, since Sam didn't know if Dean knew that Sam remembered being a baby. But how would he be able to get Dean to talk?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It turns out that getting Dean to spill his guts was a lot easier than Sam had expected it to be. They had just finished a pretty minor hunt with no major injuries, though Sam's ribs hurt a little. But Dean was drumming on the steering wheel and singing along to whatever Metallica song he was listening to, and Sam kind of forgot to be hurt.

Until Dean caught him staring out of the corner of his eye and turned down the music to say, "You doing okay, Sammy?"

"Yeah...but can we talk?"

Dean sighed, but turned the music off completely. "Sure, Sam, what do you want to talk about?"

"Uh...really? Just like that? I don't have to try and convince you that having a chick-flick moment is cool?"

"Sam, I don't have all the time in the world to hold you at arm's length." That was true, and it sucked. Like, it really sucked. "So yeah, we can have a chick-flick moment or whatever. What do you want to talk about while we eat ice cream and watch Lifetime?"

"Dean, seriously--"

"No, Sam, I'm not kidding. Ever since you..." he trailed off, and Sam could read Dean's thoughts like they were on paper.

"That's what I want to talk about," he said quietly. "Me as a baby."

Dean was quiet for a while, and then said, "Can it wait until we get back to the motel?" Sam nodded once before turning his head to look out the window, watching the scenery go by under the moonlight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So where should we start?" Dean asked, the picture of nonchalance - but Sam could see how tense his shoulders were.

"We could start with why I was turned into a baby...I don't remember being turned into one."

"A witch cast a spell on you," Dean said, biting his lip. That meant that Dean was lying, or that he wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Why?" Sam asked, and Dean rubbed his cheek before sitting down. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a letter, and handed it to Sam. Sam took the paper from slightly shaking fingers, unfolding it curiously and beginning to read.

His own fingers were shaking by the time he finished reading the letter, and let it drop from his hands before rushing forward and tackling Dean to the bed. Ignoring the "oomf!" that got pushed out, Sam locked his arms under Dean's back. Dean shifted under him and then pushed so that they were on their sides.

"Crap, Dean," Sam said quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"Why in the hell would you need to apologize?" Dean asked, voice muffled in Sam's shirt and the bedding. Still not quite able to believe that they were hugging like this and that Dean was letting it happen, Sam just squeezed tighter.

Finally, Sam let Dean go, and they sat back up, Sam moving to sit on the bed across from Dean. He stared at Dean for a few long moments, until Dean finally said, "What?"

"I just...someone turned me into a baby to _punish_ you? That sucks, and I'm--"

"Don't apologize," Dean cut across him, and Sam fell silent. "You've got nothing to apologize for. I was the asshole who left you feeling like I didn't care about you, when you and I both know that's the farthest thing from true. I don't know what was happening with me, but the last thing you deserved was how I treated you."

"Dean..."

"No, Sam. Just because I'm going to Hell doesn't mean that I should expect you to just grow up and not want to have me around any more. Before Stanford, you and I were always together, and we've been in each other's pockets since the woman in white. It wasn't fair of me to tell you what I did. It was stupid, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't. But I did learn my lesson; I shouldn't have forgotten it, and it says a lot about me that it took you almost dying to make me realize just how much I need having you around. You'd think that bartering my soul away would be a pretty big clue, but for some reason I just...forgot."

"You've had a lot to deal with--"

"Shit that I put myself through! And that I'd put myself through again! I don't regret trading my soul for you, Sam. I never will. And I should've remembered that, because you are the reason that I did this stupid deal in the first place. You being okay is my number-one priority; that's the way it is, because I'm your big brother. That's my job."

Sam didn't really know what to say, so he simply waited for Dean to say something else. When he didn't, Sam ventured to say, "I won't be okay once you're gone." Dean's eyes closed, and Sam could see him act like he was absorbing a physical blow. "You being gone is something I'll never be okay with, Dean. I didn't want to die, but...I don't want to be by myself. I want my big brother with me." _So much for never telling Dean that._

Dean was going to chew through his lip at the rate he was going, but he did stop long enough to say, "I know, Sam. And I don't want to go to Hell, but I knew what I was signing up for when I sealed the contract. One year is better than however long I'd live without you. It sounds sappy, but damn it, if you were gone, I don't think I'd have anything to live for. I wouldn't have anyone to be a big brother to, and I don't know how to be anything else. I wouldn't be able to live like that."

Sam was quiet for a moment longer before saying, "I remember the way that you treated me." Dean took a breath, but Sam went on, "As a baby, I mean. I don't remember everything, but I remember you. It's all sounds and touches, but I remember. Dean, for five days I was completely and totally taken care of; I felt completely safe. You made me feel that way, because even as a baby I knew that _you_ were safe. I won't forget that, and it totally eclipses everything you said before I got turned into a baby."

"I..." Dean didn't really look like he wanted to refute what Sam was saying. The air around them felt weirdly charged, and Sam let out a breath. "Thanks, Sammy."

"Thank _you_ , Dean." Then, to diffuse some of the tension, Sam said, "You're the best big brother I could ever ask for."

Dean huffed in spite of himself and said, "I'm the only big brother you've got, so if you wanted a different one, you're SOL."

Sam stood up and dragged Dean with him, and hugged him again. He tried to convey that even if he had the opportunity, he'd never trade Dean for anyone. Since Dean returned his hug just as tightly, Sam kind of felt like maybe he knew that.


End file.
